


Research

by Katuary



Series: Cullen Rutherford & Evelyn Trevelyan [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Addiction recovery, F/M, Lyrium Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 21:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: Evelyn takes on a research project after hours."Anything that might help. Every book so far had gotten her nowhere, though she still scribbled notes in careful cramped handwriting on a spare roll of parchment. Most books fell into three categories: vague histories guessing at dwarven mining methods, Chantry propaganda that made her roll her eyes in disgust, or technical scrolls that made her drained mind buzz."





	Research

There hadn't been much to do in the Circle that wouldn't get you suspicious looks from the templars. Reading, thankfully, was on the safer side. Evelyn had spent hours curled up near windows in the Ostwick tower, consuming magical research tomes, historical scrolls, dramatic novels, and any other words she could get her hands on. It was equal parts escapism and education, though she admitted to a habit of dabbling on the educational side. She had something to say on any topic, but only possessed deep expertise on a few. 

This subject was going to be a deep dive.

She didn't know how many people Cullen had told about stopping lyrium, apart from Cassandra. Evelyn wasn't about to break his trust or privacy, so she took to the tower library to collect books only after she was sure everyone else had retired to their quarters. Less questions. Besides, no one would question the Inquisitor roaming her own fortress at night. If anyone asked, she would just tell them the Anchor made it difficult to sleep. Believable enough, considering no one knew fully what the bloody thing was.

She spent as little time as possible in the densely-packed shelves, slinking back to her own quarters with a pile of reading material high enough to make her arms shake. 

She read with every window and curtain open. A breeze winked out her candle every so often, but relighting it was effortless with her magic (though she nearly set the page alight instead if her eyes grew too heavy). The mountain air chilled the room, but a heavy quilt over her legs and cloak about her shoulders kept out he worst of the cold. _These windows open. _You _open them. You're in control. This is no cage._ She wouldn't be accused of attempted escape for letting in air at Skyhold; she would do well to remind herself of that.

_Focus._

Her mind had a tendency to wander for myriad reasons. Lack of interest, intense interest elsewhere...those were certainly not the case now. She was simply exhausted. Maker knew what time it was now, and someone always sent for her shortly after the sun rose. Evelyn ground the heels of her palms into her closed eyes, pinched and massaged her ear lobes, anything to get another few moments. Anything that might help. Every book so far had gotten her nowhere, though she still scribbled notes in careful cramped handwriting on a spare roll of parchment. Most books fell into three categories: vague histories guessing at dwarven mining methods, Chantry propaganda that made her roll her eyes in disgust, or technical scrolls that made her drained mind buzz. She was about to give up for the night, return the items to the library before they were missed, when a torn scrap of paper caught her eye, tucked into one of the Chantry books. Handwritten, scrawled. She skimmed the first few sentences, brows drawing together in concentration. This was someone's personal account. 

"Alright," she murmured, running a hand through her hair to get the longer strands off her forehead, "One more." She piled the books neatly to the left side of her desk, as if that punctuated her promise. More room to work, so she could write as she read:

> _A prison cell, a scrap of paper for my confession, scarce enough bread and water. All I get for skimming one lousy bottle from the lyrium stores. Knight-Lieutenant Freyan cut my normal rations for "insubordination." Insubordination, my arse. It's because I saw him desert the guard tower to meet his girl. Freyan thought he'd teach me a lesson._
> 
> _I'm thirsty, but the water doesn't work. It should be more...blue._
> 
> _You take it like medicine at first, the lyrium. Your whole body sings with it, like the Maker's own fire. You're not scared of anything, not even abominations. After, it even takes away the nightmares._
> 
> _But the ration's too small. If they don't give you enough, your hands get cold. The sky starts to press down on you. Little things slip away. So you have to stay._
> 
> _The senior templars all have that look, that cloudy look in their eyes._
> 
> _"Sign your confession," they said. I'm trying. I can't think of what name to sign._

Evelyn closed her eyes and swallowed against a sudden boiling nausea. This paper...it was dated more than a hundred years ago. Perhaps the Chantry had not heard this account, but there had to be others. _The senior templars all have that look_...it was no accident that they continued to encourage lyrium use. They knew what it did to their most faithful. They had weighed those lives and considered it a worthy sacrifice, rather than find new ways. Cassandra had mana-dispelling abilities, and she was no templar and needed no lyrium. If the Chantry truly cared, and truly feared magic, why not train more Seekers?

It was different for mages. They were already dangerous enough in their raw state. Unless the Circle needed one to enter the Fade awake and aware, or to perform particularly taxing or complex magic, mages weren't to have access to the potion. Not in Ostwick, anyway. 

Evelyn had only taken lyrium on two occasions: once for her Harrowing several years before, and again when she closed the Breach with the help of the rebel mages. Both times she'd been closely supervised by templars. Both times she'd been unable to sleep for days afterwards. That had been particularly unhelpful after Haven; restless pacing and insomnia did nothing to help mend broken ribs. 

_No wonder the Chantry recommends lyrium against nightmares._ Her lip curled into a snarl. _Can't have nightmares if you can't sleep, right? _

She shook her head again, sinking her teeth sharply into her cheeks. This was what she'd been looking for. Ways to help. No sense wasting time. She wrote instead:

  * _cold hands_
  * _nightmares_
  * _confusion_
  * _claustrophobia_.

_"Are you in pain?"_

_"I can endure it."_

The wind extinguished her candle again, and Evelyn impatiently re-lit it. She would find a way to make this more bearable for him. Sleep would wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Excerpt is from the "Confessions of a Lyrium Addict" codex entry from Inquisition. Figured they'd have access to books with the same information. This is set shortly after Cullen tells the Inquisitor he isn't taking lyrium.


End file.
